


First (Official) Date

by Nehszriah



Series: The Teacher, the Media Man, and the President of the United States [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fic, and now they're at the business part, so established they've already worked out all the small talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5299226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm and Clara go on their first official date after realizing they had been "dating" for ages already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First (Official) Date

It was two weeks after they had first decided to try dating for real by the time both had a free night off. They had decided to do something special together—classy and far from anything remotely considered as takeaway. It wasn’t the kind of place one normally would think to hear Scottish burrs and Lancashire vowels, but they went there all the same.

“It’s common knowledge that whenever you don’t see a price on the menu, it’s probably too rich for your taste,” Clara frowned.

“Hey, I’ve been working for all these fucking years with no one to spend my salary on but myself; don’t worry,” Malcolm reminded her. He knew that Clara wasn’t the kind to take such an expensive outing and simply go along with it; she was infamous for paying her way and knowing where to get the best for one’s money. Living on a starting schoolteacher’s salary in modern London did that to people, after all.

They ordered their food and were served drinks—wine older than both of them accompanied by a small savory. By the time that plate was cleared it was simply time to wait until the next course.

“So, students behaving for you?” he asked, trying to think of conversation.

“They’re attempting to, anyhow,” she replied. She sipped at her wine and glanced around covertly, taking in the atmosphere. Posh didn’t even begin to describe it, which made her feel more than conspicuous. “Is this what it was like when you moved down from Glasgow?”

“Pardon?”

“This awkward feeling I’m getting—just _sitting here_ makes me feel uncivilized even though I’m far from it.”

“Oh, yeah, you get used to it,” he shrugged, voice low. He swirled the wine within his glass lightly before taking another small sip. “At least we know how to behave quietly, unlike some forsaken wanks that think they can walk into places like this without abandoning their cuntish ways.”

“Seen many before, I take it?” she giggled. Clara scooted in a bit closer, glad they were seated in a circular booth so that it was particularly difficult to eavesdrop.

“New money blames old money, and old blames new, but in the end, they’re all useless sacks of shit wherever they come from,” he growled. “I’ve met decent people and bent fuckers from all walks of life, but it always seems to be the ones with the money that act the worst. They fucking think they own you because they make more taking a dump than you do in a week and it’s all you can do to not murder them where they stand.”

“I can see that.”

“At least it’s not some fucking class thing,” Malcolm said. “I’d flat-out quit my job and move out to the middle of arse-fuck nowhere in the Highlands so that I’d never have to see another human being ever again if that were the case.”

“I’m glad,” Clara said. “It’d be pretty boring without you running around cussing up a storm… that is if you call that thing you do running.”

“Hey, an Olympic medalist I’m not, but cut me some slack,” he laughed, mood immediately lifted. “If you had to move somewhere, where’d you go?”

Clara looked at him, puzzled. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Well,” she began, “when I was little, my mum gave me this book all about good places to go on holiday. There were days when I’d want to go live in some of these places and days when I wouldn’t even want to leave Blackpool in my entire life.”

“Anywhere that makes the cut after all these years?”

“One,” she admitted. “Though, I think it’d be highly situational.”

“Oh? Now where would that be?” he asked. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, as their waiter had just come with the soup.

“The middle of arse-fuck nowhere.”

He grinned at that, toothily and full of sass. “Didn’t think you were one that changed their mind so quickly.”

“Situationally, yes,” she said. “I didn’t mean it’d be pretty boring at _Number 10_ without you swearing about and doing that ridiculous penguin thing.”

“I see—you continue to surprise me, Miss Oswald, in only the best of ways.” He then tried not to choke on his soup as Clara slipped out of her shoe and poked her toe up his trouser leg. They spent the rest of dinner murmuring obscenities in ears and attempting to make one another laugh hard enough to spit wine. It was late by the time they were out on the street and hailed a cab, Malcolm ready to give instructions to head towards Clara’s flat.

“Wait, but you’re closer to here than me,” she insisted.

“I told you: I’m paying for tonight.”

“…but you weren’t listening: _your house is closer_.”

It took a couple seconds, but once Malcolm processed the information, he switched up destinations and before long he was holding open the door to his unassuming house for his date.

“Go ahead and sit down; I’ll make us a cuppa,” Clara said, walking into the kitchen. Her heels clicked on the tile, sharp and precise.

“It’s my house,” he reminded her.

“…but I might be living here soon,” she lobbed back. She smirked at the dumbfounded expression plastered across his face as she filled the kettle. “What, would you rather cram into my flat?”

“Fuck no—you’re just being very direct,” he replied, sitting down at the table.

“We’ve been dating for a long time without ever realizing it, so might as well,” Clara said frankly. “We already know we want kids, that moving out to the country wouldn’t be bad, that you’ve already got a home to raise a family if the countryside isn’t in our future…”

“…not exactly all things you talk about while out in the posh man’s public,” he finished.

“Yeah.” Once tea was made she joined him at the table, placing down two steaming mugs of sweet tea before them. Clara already knew that even though there wasn’t going to be much more than this on their plate for the rest of the night, she wasn’t going to be staying in the guest bedroom like she had dozens of times before. The Wolf of Whitehall wasn’t a wolf when it came to women, and she was perfectly fine with that.

“Hey Clara?”

“Yeah Malcolm?” She blew on her tea in an effort to cool it, waiting for his reply.

“When do you want to get hitched?”


End file.
